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Now what? Fu thought. He couldn't just leave the cub there in the middle of the forest. But at the same time, he couldn't stay there himself with no food and no shelter. He decided to take the cub with him in search of the hunters' camp. He figured the cub could use some nourishment, too. Fu reached down and grabbed both of the cub's front paws with one hand. The cub didn't wake, so he took its back paws in his other hand, squatted down, and hoisted the sleeping cub across his shoulders. Then he stood.
The cub was larger up close than it appeared from a distance, but it was lighter than Fu thought it would be. He had no trouble carrying it to the clearing with the pit. Once there, he walked in concentric circles looking for the hunters' tracks, eventually finding two sets: an older set leading to the clearing and a fresher set leading away. Fu chose the older set and started tracing the hunters' steps backward. After some time, they came upon the hunters' abandoned camp in a grassy area. It seemed the hunters had left the pit and headed directly back to their village without returning to the camp. Still, they hadn't left much at the camp. In fact, the only thing they'd left was a smoldering fire.
But the glowing embers gave Fu an idea. He laid the sleeping cub down on a soft patch of grass near the fire pit and searched around until he'd collected enough dry wood to rekindle the flames. He and the cub might not be able to eat right now, but at least he could get dry, and they both could get a little rest. After building up the fire, Fu removed his dripping robe and pants and hung them across several forked branches near the fire. Then he sat down next to the cub and unrolled the wet scrolls to dry them out. He laid them upside down, partially to keep them from rolling back up and partially to keep himself from reviewing them. He was anxious to take a look at them, but he knew he really needed some rest. He would have time to look at the scrolls later.
Fu finished smoothing out the scrolls, then lay down near the cub, next to the warm fire. The cub began to snore, just like Fu often did. Fu looked over and saw that the cub was sleeping with its mouth open, drooling. He often did that, too. As Fu lay there, he realized that these weren't the only things he and the tiger cub had in common. There was also kung fu. Tiger-style kung fu, which was a blending of human skills and tiger skills. That made him and the tiger members of the same spiritual family tree.
And there was something else. Something significant. He and the cub were both orphans. Both without families. Both alone.
Fu recalled the boy he had attacked earlier. That boy was lucky. His father might have pressured him to kill the cub, but in the end, his father didn't make him do it. Also, his father seemed to truly care for him. The boy's father might be a good man, after all. Fu's mind began to race again.
What had he done to the boy? His actions were no better than those of an animal. He had let the animal half of him take control. The only way to make things right was for his other half to get involved. The human half. The man half. A real man admits when he makes a mistake and apologizes, regardless of the consequences. Fu had come to learn this the hard way.
On more than one occasion, he had attacked one or more of his brothers after they offended him or played a small trick on him. His reactions were always far more drastic than the original actions, usually leaving his brother or brothers in bad shape. Afterward, Grandmaster always made Fu swallow his pride and apologize. His brothers had always accepted his apology, and that was that. All was forgotten. Perhaps if he apologized to the boy, he would be forgiven. And maybe if he openly forgave the men for killing the tiger, the men would forgive him for attacking them. If they were good men, they would forgive him. Grandmaster had told him to find good men to help against Ying. If the hunters were good men, they would help. And if they were very good men, they would also give him some food. At the very least, he could ask the men to direct him to the village dump, where he might be allowed to scavenge for scraps. He was that hungry.
Curled up by the fire next to his new blood brother, Fu drifted off to sleep.
“Major Ying, I have returned!” announced Captain Yue ceremoniously.
Ying pulled his head out of a rain barrel near the Cangzhen main gate and wiped his face on the sleeve of the clean robe he had just put on. Captain Yue paraded over to the opposite side of the rain barrel atop his brown stallion, his immaculate silk robes shimmering in the evening sun.
Ying's third-in-command was a tall man, but he was slight of build, so he usually wore billowing robes to give himself a bulkier appearance. He also wore large, impractical hats to make himself feel important. He wasn't much of a soldier, but he commanded respect nonetheless. He was the Emperor's nephew.
“Why are you back already?” Ying scowled as he cleaned one of his ears with a long fingernail.
